Though the night was moonless, Anthony could see that. That it was a beautiful specimen of a "Queen Anne" residence he could not perceive. Indeed, almost before the car had been berthed close to the shadowy elegance of a tremendous cedar, the front door was opened, and a great shaft of light streamed out into the darkness.
The guests passed in.
The monstrous deference of the footman who received Anthony's coat and hat gave a disconcerting fillip to the latter's uneasiness. As a respectful butler preceded the party upstairs, he felt as if he were being conducted to a scaffold.
"Captain and Mrs. Alison, Miss Alison, Major Lyveden."
Anthony braced himself.
The next moment—
"How d'ye do?" said Valerie, with a quiet smile. "I'm so glad you could come. How's Patch?"
With a whirling brain, Anthony tried to say that Patch was very well.
"Let me introduce you to my aunt," said Valerie, turning to a lady whom
Anthony seemed to have seen before. "Aunt Harriet, this is Major
Lyveden—Lady Touchstone."
Anthony bowed dazedly.